Wish you were here

Dear Pugsley,

How are things going up there in Juneau? It's been a while, hasn't it? Last time I saw you, leaning against boxes in that dark storage unit, you looked a little forlorn. I thought I'd take the time to drop you a line and say hello. I hope it cheers you up.

As you know, I've been down in the States, trying to wrap my head and legs around this whole summer biking thing. It's hard! Much harder than I anticipated. When you swerve out of control down a patch of scree, there's nothing soft on the ground to cushion the blow. And everything around here is bumpy. We're talking boulder fields that could break teeth (and spokes and derailleurs.) But for the most part, it's been going well. Just this past weekend, I took an overnight trip to the Uintas. You would have liked it there, Pugsley.

I left Heber in the early afternoon on Sunday, climbed to Kamas and aimed at getting over the pass on Highway 150. I was hoping to connect with some gravel and work my way down to the Weber River. The pavement just climbed and climbed and climbed, right into a down-canyon headwind. Now, I know how much you adore climbing (Ha! Remember the last time we climbed Eaglecrest? I think you tried to roll backward.) But I could have used you near the top. The pavement was getting precarious.

I hit the end of bikeable road at about 10,700 feet. Temps had been pretty cold and the once-groomed snowpack was just crusty enough to allow fairly easy travel on foot. Kim's tires, on the other hand, just wanted to dig in. I kept thinking, "If only I had Pugsley, I could probably summit this pass and drop down the other side." It probably would have turned into a slushy postholing nightmare. It was, after all, the last day of May. But as I looked into an expanse of white, I missed snowbiking. And I missed you.

Anyway, Kim and I had to turn around and form a new plan. My map showed six forest roads and trails heading north off 150, and I decided to try them out and see what I could find.

"Break up" is happening in full force up in the mountains right now, which means nearly unlimited sources of water ... and mud. I could have really used you on some of those forest roads. Sticky, gloppy muck occasionally grabbed my wheel, but I could usually find a way to steer around it.

And, of course, once we were high enough, all roads ended in snow. It was pretty much a given ... at about 9,000 feet, patches of snow started to interrupt the gravel. By 9,500 feet, the roads were impassable. As I moved down the highway, I had to climb further to reach the dead end. But it was always there, in some muddy unscenic spot, just waiting to mock me and the 2,000 feet of effort I had just wasted.

It wasn't all a waste, though. While looking for a lake that I never found (probably took a wrong turn or several in there somewhere), I stumbled across a great campsite next to a swollen creek. You would have been so proud of me, Pugsley - I managed to start and sustain my own raging campfire (Remember that time I spent an hour trying to light some frozen twigs next to Herbert Glacier? Ha!) This time, I didn't even need fire to survive, and I built one anyway! It felt so luxurious. In keeping with my theme of simple gas station foods as a source of bike trip calories, I ate Corn Nuts, peanut M&Ms and CarboRocket for dinner by the fire. It was delicious. Now, I don't need your nutrition lectures, Pugsley. People cook up fancy freeze-dried dinners on their stoves and still get the same calories, carbs, fat and protein, but they need to carry and prepare all that crap. Keep it simple. You taught me that.

Temps were cold that night. I saw 37 on the thermometer before I went to bed. It likely dropped to freezing before sunrise. I know to you that sounds warm, but I'm traveling much lighter down here. I have a sleeping bag that's only rated to 32 (positive!) and didn't know how well it would perform on the margins. I'm pleased to report that it worked beautifully. I slept eight and a half solid hours and likely snored the whole time. I probably would have slept even longer, but this young buck wandered into my camp and wouldn't leave. He approached within a few feet of my bag while I was snoozing. I went into full-on "bear" mode, jolted upright in a near-panic and looked right at him. He hardly even flinched. It was almost as though he was just curious about me. Now, don't be jealous, Pugsley. When I say young buck, I mean he was actually a deer. You know you're still my one and only.

Morning brought more forest road exploration. Man, these Uinta roads are rough. I could have really used you, Pugsley. When you and I go mountain biking, we can just monster-truck over everything and not even break our line. With the skinny tires, I have to display a lot more finesse. A lot more than I have. Front suspension and all. I did a lot of walking on the uphills. A lot more than I needed to. But then, you know all about hike-a-biking, Pugsley. I think even you'd admit that it's a nice break from the constant turning of pedals.

Still, I'm getting more comfortable every day. Don't fret, Pugsley. I will eventually return to the land of rain and snow. But I remain in awe of Utah's sweeping beauty, in all of these places that until now where vague images from a distant past. I love the desert, but I still think Utah saves its best for the high country. Maybe it's because the alpine is so similar - sometimes achingly so - to Alaska.

With the exception of being dead-ended on every route I tried, the overnight ride went beautifully and I got everything I needed out of it. I was rained on several times, enough to soak my outer layer and show me that I can keep myself warm and my sleeping gear dry in wet and cool conditions. I slept out in near-freezing temperatures. I pedaled my way to near 11,000 feet and didn't pass out, although I have to admit I was wheezing. I ended with about 140 miles of pedaling, 12,000 feet of climbing, 30 pretty pictures, 12 hours of luxury camping with my bivy and a bold young buck, all in the span of just over 27 hours. The day went by amazingly fast. I just rode my bike and everything else fell into place.

It was a tough ride but not overly so. I went out for 10 more miles with my friends in the evening. I could get used to this lifestyle, and maybe I'll have to. Either way, I'll have to return to real life someday. I hope until then you don't collect too much dust. Winter will be here before you know it.

Miss you.

Love, Jill

Ready to roll

So this is what my bike looks like loaded. I couldn't find a wonderful place for my sleeping pad so I finally just strapped it to the aero bars. Sleeping bag, spare tubes and clothing go in the seatpost bag. The bivy, batteries, headlight battery pack, med kit, pump, filter (if I decide to bring it) and food go in the frame bag. I hose-clamped a bottle holder underneath the frame so I have a place to carry a bottle. The rest of my water, tools and electronics go in a backpack. I've carried it with as much as nine liters of water inside. It's not too bad. The bike, on the other hand, is heavy.

But that's how it goes. I'm a tourist, not an ascetic. I haven't weighed the bike at all. These are things I'm best off not knowing. But I've made considerable improvement since my cross-country tour six years ago, when I carried a laptop and accessories that weighed close to 10 pounds by itself, along with a six-pound tent, a pillow(!), a full-sized Thermarest, three full changes of clothes and Tasty Bites (foil-packaged Indian dinners that we didn't really like and for some reason couldn't throw away, so we hauled a few most the way from Utah to New York.) Yes, I'm so much better now. At least I'm leaving the laptop behind.

I'm heading out Sunday for an overnight tour near the Uintas. I'll have my SPOT on but I'm not sure how interesting it will be. I don't feel comfortable mapping my own gravel route in the high country, so I may stick mostly to pavement. I may head out and back on some gravel if the conditions look good. I'm going to kind of wing it as I go. Sometimes, that's the most fun way to travel by bike. This is pretty much my last chance to dial in my gear in the field. After I get back, I'll talk about what comes next.

I had a great time visiting my friend Anna in Heber. She has a 1-year-old, Mia, who I've only recently met. Adorable, obviously. We met up at the Stewart Falls trailhead and I was surprised to see Anna's brother, Matt, in tow. Matt's with the Air Force and works all over the world - it was pretty random that he just happened to be visiting Utah during the same weekend I planned to visit Anna. It was fun to catch up with him. I went on a river trip with Anna's whole family four years ago and afterward felt tempted to ask Matt if I could run away with him to whatever exotic locale he was working at the time. He's married now. Too bad. :-)

After Stewart Falls, we hit the Dairy Keen for fresh raspberry shakes and then Cascade Springs. It was a pretty idyllic summer Saturday in Heber. I'm feeling a bit loathe to leave right now. But the solo bike tour awaits.

Road bike ride

The transition between the virtual world and the real one is strangely fluid. Since I left Alaska, I've had the opportunity to meet several people that before I only knew - or knew of - online. It's strange to look into the eyes of someone you've only seen pictures of, hear the voice of someone you've only seen text about, and really feel like you know them. I find myself listening to their stories and saying, "Yeah! I remember that!" Of course I don't remember that. I remember the blog post they wrote about that. The line between virtual and real is often more blurry than we're willing to admit, and I'm one of those people that's OK with that.

Today I met up with Elden and his friends for a road bike ride up the Alpine Loop. Since I don't have a road bike, Elden was nice enough to lend me one of his. He even gave me his geared Ibis road bike and rode his singlespeed so I'd feel more comfortable. But road bikes are still fidgety creatures. I feel weird balancing on 23mm of rubber and leaning over drop bars and only using two fingers to pump the brakes (I generally use more of a white-knuckle-full-fist braking approach.) All of Elden's friends turned out to be these buff-looking guys. I was the only female in the group, the only one on a borrowed bike and the only one who still feels severely oxygen-deprived above 7,000 feet. I braced myself for disaster.

Oddly, disaster did fall, but not on me. About three miles into the ride, Kenny - a guy I know from Elden's blog as "the singlespeeder who crushes every race he enters and rode the whole Kokopelli Trail in an unreal 14 or 15 hours" - hit a freak patch of gravel, swerved wildly in a dust cloud and toppled next to a large rock just as Elden and one other guy flew over him in a tornado of bikes and bodies. I was fourth in line and - as uncomfortable as I am with pace lines - hanging far enough back that I was able to slam on my brakes and stop just short of the wreckage. It was the most stunning crash I have ever witnessed - similar to those Euro-roadie pileups that I've seen on YouTube - but luckily everyone hit the tarmac laughing. It took a while for them to untangle themselves, and Kenny had a deep gash over his eyebrow and road rash on his shoulder and knees. It looked painful. I would have turned around on much, much less, but Kenny just washed his face in a waterfall and kept going.

I rode most of the climb with Kenny. Probably because of a combination of soreness from the spectacular crash and the unreal gear he was running - I think he said it was a 50x17; Elden analyzed us and said I made two and a half rotations for every one of Kenny's - I was able to keep up with him. We talked about Kokopelli and photo processing. We talked about a funny picture Elden photoshopped of me towering over Kenny (one of the ongoing reactions I have heard after meeting virtual friends for the first time is that I am bigger in person than they pictured me. It's funny to me, because I don't view myself as a big person. Maybe it's because I'm usually wearing six layers of clothing in my self portraits. I'm 5'7" for the record. But notice Kenny ducking in the top photo? That's intentional.) But it was a fun ride up. I felt like I was catching up with an old acquaintance. First time I ever met the guy.

After we descended (everyone else in a couple heart beats; me very, very slowly), Elden and I headed up the Suncrest hill to do about 1,300 more feet of climbing for good measure. One amazing thing about road bikes, especially Elden's road bikes, is that they're so superlight they make climbing feel a lot less like climbing. Still, I was surprised Elden was up for 4,500 feet of gain just one day after a race. I wondered if he was thinking about blogging prospects of the ride. I know I'm guilty of that sometimes. :-P